If You See Someone In Trouble, You

I Look Older. Maybe It's The Short Hair Or Maybe It's Just That I Wear All That Has Happened Like A Mask. Either Way, I Always Thought I Would Be Happy When I Stopped Looking Like A Child. But All I Feel Is A Lump In My Throat. I Am No Longer The Daughter My Parents Knew. They Will Never Know Me As I Am Now.

Who Is He When He Isn't Dauntless, Isn't An Instructor, Isn't Four, Isn't Anything In Particular? Whoever He Is, I Like Him. It's Easier To Admit That To Myself Now, In The Dark, After All That Just Happened. He Is Not Sweet Or Gentle Or Particularly Kind. But He Is Smart And Brave, And Even Though He Saved Me, He Treated Me Like I Was Strong. That Is All I Need To Know.

I Feel The Urge, Familiar Now, To Wrench Myself From My Body And Speak Directly Into Her Mind. It Is The Same Urge, I Realize, That Makes Me Want To Kiss Her Every Time I See Her, Because Even A Sliver Of Distance Between Us Is Infuriating. Our Fingers, Loosely Woven A Moment Ago, Now Clutch Together, Her Palm Tacky With Moisture, Mine Rough In Places Where I Have Grabbed Too Many Handles On Too Many Moving Trains. Now She Looks Pale And Small, But Her Eyes Make Me Think Of Wide-open Skies That I Have Never Actually Seen, Only Dreamed Of.

I Don't Want To Try To Live Up To Someone Who's Created Something So Incredible. I'm Just Trying To Focus On What I'm Doing And What I Do Best. It's Sometimes Hard To Focus In And Only Think About My Books Rather Than How They Measure Up To Someone Else's.

I Frown At Him. How Does He Know All This Information? And Why, After Two Years Of Avoiding Becoming A Dauntless Leader At All Costs, Is He Suddenly Acting Like One?